


Be Careful What You Wish For

by Sherlock1110



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Plug, Bondage, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Butt Plugs, Dog Tags, Dom John, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Gags, M/M, Military Kink, Orgasm Delay, Predicament Bondage, Roleplay, Rope Bondage, Sub Sherlock Holmes, Top John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 19:20:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4316694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlock1110/pseuds/Sherlock1110
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock wont stop bugging John all morning.<br/>John seeks more creative ways of dealing with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be Careful What You Wish For

**Author's Note:**

> Beta read by sherlockian4evr

It was the 5th time Sherlock had demanded John get his phone and it wasn’t even 2 o’clock yet. Why couldn’t the incredible muppet genius leave it where he could reach it? “Look Sherlock, I’m not your little lap dog.”

John was angry now, but Sherlock seemed oblivious as per usual. 

“Sherlock! I’m talking to you!”

“What?”

John handed him his phone. “I said, I’m not your bloody lap dog.”

“No, but I could be yours.”

John gagged on thin air. “What?” Did he really just say that?

He didn’t look up from the slide he was examining in the microscope.

“Your pet,” he said it in a way that meant he clearly felt he was stating the obvious.

A sudden thought struck John.

“Sher-Sherlock are you high?”

That got his attention. “What? John, no! I- well-”

“You were waiting for me to get mad.”

He dropped his head, but not to his microscope. “Yes.”

“Why?”

Sherlock didn’t answer.

***

The doctor new what he was up to. They occasionally played games that would end up in bed, switching roles and so on. Yesterday, John had gone on his laptop straight after the detective had left it to go and meet Lestrade to find his recent history on the sex shop just up the street. They hadn’t really done anything with toys or equipment but the idea did have a certain appeal to it…

He decided to test a theory. Neither of them were busy, there wasn’t a case at the moment. Sherlock was just going through some cold cases and John didn’t have any shifts at the surgery until Sarah called so, without saying anything to the detective, he stood up from his chair and disappeared up to his old room. 

He came down a while later with a very pleased smile on his face. He went straight into the kitchen where he was sure their credit card was in one of the drawers. He didn’t even know why they had a credit card to be honest. The surgery hours were more than enough to cover random bits and bobs and since they’d been together, Mycroft paid for everything anyway.

“I’m going out, Sherlock. Do you want anything?”

“Milk. We’ve run out.”

Sherlock asking about the milk? Maybe he was more bored than he’d let on.

When John got home he went straight upstairs to his old room once again and routed out his old uniform. Simple combats and dog tags. He even slid into the boots, although he didn’t do them up. He planned to be out of them fairly soon and fairly quickly.

He had had to refold them all earlier, after trying it all on, and stuff it all back in the boxes at the bottom of the wardrobe. He couldn’t leave it out. Sherlock could have come up to find out what was going on and it would have ruined it. 

At the top of the stairs, he realised Sherlock would know he had boots on from the clomping on the stairs, so he quickly slid out of them, ran down the stairs and put them on just by the door. Sherlock was still at the kitchen table. 

“Did you get the milk?” Sherlock asked without looking up.

“Sod the milk,” Came the gruff response. John caught himself off-guard with how strong and stern his voice was. It caused Sherlock to look up before freezing. It was quite comical. It was almost like he had been paused. His eyes went wide at the sight, his gaze pausing over John’s crotch. He could clearly recognise that the doctor was already finding this arousing. 

“I think it’s about time you learned to behave Private.”

Sherlock eyed him again. “Think you might,” he cleared his throat. “Think you might be right.” He pushed the microscope away and then yelped when there was a hand in his hair, tugging sharply.

“What was that?”

“I… um…”

Um? That so-called word had never exited the detective’s mouth before. This was brilliant. John resisted the urge to kiss him and tugged at his hair again instead.

“Take a look at what I am wearing Sherlock and make a deduction.”

“I- yes, Captain, sir.”

“People usually pick one of the other.” 

Sherlock’s cheeks went red in an unusual flush.

“But both work for me. Now get on the floor where you belong.”

The shock on Sherlock’s face was an absolute picture. John had half a mind to tell him to hold it while he found his phone.

“Your safe word is Vatican.”

“I guess yours is cameos.”

John grabbed him by the back of his neck and tugged him off the chair onto the floor. “Enough cheek from you. I have something planned for you, Private, but if you are uncomfortable with any of it you have to use the safe word, ok?”

Sherlock nodded and there was the grip in his curls again. “Yes, sir,” he moaned.

“Oh Sherlock, we should have done this a long time ago.”

Sherlock nodded again and John straightened up, holding his hands behind his back with military precision and sliding into the role like it was a life or death situation in Afghanistan.

“Now what to do with you…” he paced around the kneeling figure with slow, deliberate steps.

“You could let me suck you off?” he asked hopefully.

The slap rang out through the room before either of them had realised it. Sherlock rubbed his cheek, his left eye close to watering. John immediately felt his heart leap up into his throat, but Sherlock was looking at him in what only could be described as awe. John grinned.

“Eyes to the floor!” he barked. Sherlock complied immediately, dropping his hand to his thigh.

“I’ve had quite enough of your attitude and cheek. Get into the press up position.”

John was aware that Sherlock was quite strong, but this was more about submission than strength… well physical strength at any rate. 

“Well? What are you waiting for?”

Sherlock swallowed quickly and gracefully fell forward, catching himself on his hands and raising up onto his toes.

“Good boy,” John murmured. He went back to his circling. “Give me 25 press ups.”

The complaint or argument at how dull that would be never came and Sherlock obediently began to lower himself to the floor. Once he’d hit the five mark John paused in front of him. As he pushed up and prepared for his sixth, john slid his foot under his head. “Kiss my boot every time. If you don’t, it doesn’t count, and let’s make it 30. That’s a nice number after all. Count out loud.”

“6,” Sherlock spluttered not ready to talk properly. He kissed Johns boot and the taste of leather wasn’t a pleasant one.

“7, sir,” he amended on his next one. 

“Better.”

By the time he’d reached 30 Sherlock wasn’t even trembling. It would probably be up to 50 before he would begin to tire. Which was quite surprising considering his diet and sleeping patterns. Mind you, they had improved for the greater good since they’d been in a relationship. John hadn’t realised how much he actually dominated Sherlock, making him eat and sleep and drink and even behave on crime scenes. Lestrade had even mentioned how much of a different person Sherlock seemed to be these days. The simple fact that Sherlock ate on a case was fantastic. He didn’t need to be a doctor to know 4 days solid, running across London chasing murdering psychopaths with no food or sleep was bad especially as Sherlock’s excuses were utter crap. Digestion slows me down, my arse, John smirked. He looked down at the taught form below him and wished he’d had Sherlock take his clothes off.

He’d paused in the straight position, clearly unsure what to do next. 

“Stay,” John ordered. The doctor turned and toed off his boots by the door before returning. “Knees Private.”

Sherlock shifted back to his knees, but this time keeping his head down.

“Ah, a little respect at last.” John unzipped his combats and Sherlock shifted on his knees impatiently.

The second slap of the evening ran through the room and Sherlock winced slightly.

“Sorry Captain,” he said quietly.

“What for?”

“I- being impatient sir.”

“That’s one reason. What’s another?”

Sherlock shrugged.

“You are seriously asking for trouble, Holmes.”

That sentence alone made Sherlock’s heart race.

“So, what are you going to do to me? Sir?” Sherlock purred the last word out and John clenched his teeth to save bending down and kissing him. He spun on his heel and headed to their bedroom. “Come with me,” he called over his shoulder. 

Knowing what he would do, John was prepared when the detective stood up. “Um, no!” John snapped. “We’ve discussed this. You crawl on the floor. That’s where needy little cock sluts stay, isn’t it?”

The humiliation burned in Sherlock’s chest and he loved it.

“That was a question,” John barked.

“Yes, sir. Sorry sir.” 

“Yes, sir, what?”

“The floor is where I belong, sir.”

“And?”

“I’m a needy cock slut, sir.”

John laughed. “A gorgeous needy cock slut and all mine. Get into our quarters and strip. You have 90 seconds and you will be kneeling by the foot of the bed.”

Sherlock shuffled past him and John couldn’t resist slapping his arse and making him jolt about a foot in front.

“And fold your clothes!” John yelled after him.

90 seconds on the dot, John charged in the bedroom. Sherlock was on his knees, but had only got as far as unbuttoning his shirt- not taking it off.

“Oh Holmes, you disappoint me. Getting undressed a bit difficult for you is it?”

Sherlock glanced up at him as if judging his seriousness.

“Or are you just asking for more trouble than you’re already in?” 

More trouble did sound intriguing, but then again it also sounded as though it could be harsh… make a decision time Sherlock. He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Why was the idea of being punished suddenly so hot? 

“Very well. Ignoring your senior officer is also a punishment earning offence.”

Sherlock swallowed hard. “John- sir. I-”

“Enough, Private! Lay down on your front.”

Heart racing at the unknown, Sherlock obeyed.

John took the bag off the bed and emptied the contents on the floor in front of Sherlock. The idea was not to inform the wayward detective of what was to come but to see if there was anything that immediately jumped out and scared him. Apparently not. There were toys there that John had bought because he liked the look of it but didn’t intend to use tonight, but he didn’t tell his toy soldier that. 

Feeling more confident than ever, John picked everything up and dropped it on the bed out of sight from the horizontal detective. He found the lube from the drawer, squirted a generous amount on his fingers and began working a finger into Sherlock hole.

Sherlock was obviously not unused to the feeling as they’d both played top and bottom before, but they always used to go slow. Slow and gentle. Well not today. Today was different. He pushed his entire index finger in almost to his third knuckle and grinned as the detective bucked. “I didn’t give you permission to move, soldier.”

“S-sorry, sir,” Sherlock moaned beneath the Captain as he relentlessly continued to force his finger in and out. Sherlock tried his hardest to not buck and writhe, but it was near on impossible. 

The younger of the two always preferred being on the bottom. John always supposed it was because he was in so much control at crime scenes and the rest of their hectic life he liked to unwind, God knows how he used to before the pair of them got together. John never used to be rough with him, always treating him like a china doll that could crack and splinter at any point. It wasn’t until a few weeks ago when Sherlock had reached back and grabbed the doctor’s balls that he had pushed him flat to the mattress and fucked him hard. They’d both loved every minute of it.

Aware that, for once, time was on their side, John took his time. It was nearly 10 minutes before he pushed in a second finger. Sherlock was moaning without fail now and John dropped his open palm on his arse. “Quiet! He barked. 

Sherlock fell silent. An apology from him right now would be fantastic. Apologising for whimpering as John penetrated him with only one finger. That would never happen…

“Apologise Holmes.”

“What for?”

He received another smack.

He stayed sullenly silent as John pulled his finger out, standing up. He whimpered at the loss of touch and it took less than a minute for him to do what was needed. “S-sorry, Captain, p-please…”

“Please what?”

“Finger me. Fuck me. Just do something!”

“Watch your tone!”

Sherlock’s head ducked.

Deciding that continuing at this point would give Sherlock what he wanted, he put his foot between his legs and toed his cock.

“You let this run your mouth, Private, did you know that?”

Dread filled Sherlock’s stomach.

“It’s alright though, soldier. I can help.”

Sherlock felt John’s fingers in his mouth before he had a chance to see them. He began sucking on them intently, but John twisted his fingers and prised his jaw open pushing a black ball gag in and buckling it tightly behind his head. 

“Click your fingers if you want to safe word,” John said quietly then stood up abruptly smiling down at the wayward detective. 

He returned to his fingering, pushing a second finger as if he hadn’t stopped. 

Sherlock gurgled around the gag at the burn the second finger offered. 

Before he started working in a third, there was something definitely not flesh like. It was hard, cold and felt metallic at his entrance.

Sherlock let out a surprised yelp as John began to wiggle it in. Once it was seated uncomfortably, John used a piece of rope that he could attach to the buckle on the gag and ran it down Sherlock’s back to the little eyehole in the top of the hook. He tugged it nice and tight.

“Push up, soldier.”

Obeying, Sherlock found that John had somehow attached the rope to the bedpost meaning it was now stuck; therefore so was Sherlock.  
He moaned something incoherent around the gag and John just laughed. 

“Oh no, no, no, you’ve been acting up all day. Wanting attention. Well now you’ve got it. I wonder how long you can stay like that…”  
John collapsed into the chair he had moved into the bedroom earlier and watched, a greedy glint in his eye. Sherlock attempted to look over his shoulder, but let out a muffled yelp and went back to looking at the floor in front of his hands.

“Do you know what this is called Holmes?”

Sherlock shook his head but whimpered, his knees buckling. John straightened his leg out and used his foot to hold his soldier’s knees straight until the detective got a grip of himself and regained control of his limbs. 

“It’s called predicament bondage. You are in complete control of your comfort. Want to relax your arms? You can, but you’ll be potentially fucking yourself. In both ends. Thus, the only way to cease that action is to take your full weight on your arms.”

Sherlock nodded his understanding just a fraction. Enough for John to smile. He wondered how long the prone man would give it before moving and briefly wondering what would win, the ache in his arms or the need to cause friction within him.

***

It was well over 10 minutes before Sherlock’s arms began to tremble. John was impressed. He expected his will to give in and want to fuck himself at least 5 minutes ago. Sherlock held remarkable strength for a man so small and wiry.

“Anything to say, Private?”

Sherlock remained remarkably quiet behind the gag- not even an incoherent moan. The determination. 

“You know what to do when it gets too much, Holmes.”

Still silence.

“Fine.”

John went back to his chair and grabbed the paper from the floor.

It was only 157 seconds later when John tried again. This time Sherlock nodded minutely. 

John unbuckled the gag, which released the strain throughout the rope and his soldier collapsed in a heap.

“Something to say?”

“Y-Yes, Captain?”

“Was that a question?”

John moved towards him with the gag still in his hand.

“N-no, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”

“An actual apology, wow, I didn’t even need to force it out of you. Maybe I should stick a hook in your arse more often. But anything else to ask?”

“Yeah,” he said slightly breathlessly as he saw the bulge in his Captain’s trousers. “Can you put something else in, instead of that stupid hook I mean?”

“Of course,” John said smiling. 

Sherlock was too out of it to notice the evil glint in his eye.

John placed a thumb and a finger either side of Sherlock’s hole and slowly pulled the hook out. Sherlock sighed at the release.

“You ready?”

“Ah yeah- yes, Captain.”

Laughing softly to himself, John slicked the plug up and pressed it to his hole.

“J-John, that’s not your-” He cut off when John landed a palm on his upturned cheek.

“You said something else.”

“Argh! You know what I meant!” John dropped his hand on his arse twice in quick succession this time.

“What was that?”

“I meant… yes, sir. Sorry, sir. I didn’t mean a plug, sir. I meant you.”

“I know, soldier.”

John pulled the plug out in one clean swoop and replaced his now loose hole with his cock. 

“Better, Private?”

Sherlock laughed softly. “Y-yes, sir. Lots.”

It took a matter of minutes for John to be brought to climax inside of his lover and Sherlock followed suite immediately. 

He collapsed on top of the older man and rolled off. 

Once he’d got his breath back, he grabbed his boyfriends face. “Did I give you permission to come?”

Sherlock’s eyes went wide. “I- sir- I-”

“Maybe I should put that hook back inside you? Would you like that?”

Somehow the detective’s eyes got even wider. “No, sir. No! I’m sorry, sir.”

“Shh, my gorgeous boy,” he brushed a couple of sweaty locks out of the way. “I was only joking. But do you know what the lesson is?”

Sherlock’s head moved from side to side in John’s lap.

“Be careful what you wish for.”


End file.
